Meraki
by Flowers47
Summary: Spock and Uhura finally decide to tie the knot, and bring the crew of the Enterprise along. Traditions from an age-old culture, snootiness, and scandal abounds. High T rating.
1. Chapter 1

He was sitting at his desk, pretending to do paperwork but really just swiveling back and forth in his wheelie chair, when the soft knock came.

"Enter." The door slid open with a hiss.

"Good evening, Captain." Uhura was smiling, but he could tell by her use of his rank that this was not a social visit.

"Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to put in a request for shore leave."

Jim furrowed his brow. They had just had a ship-wide break not a month ago.

"Of course Lieutenant, I'll grant it if we can spare you. I'm sure it should be hard to find some time for just one person. Any particular place?"

She hesitated, and then took a seat across from him.

"Actually, it wouldn't be just me. I'd like to petition for leave for Commander Spock as well. Next time we're in New Vulcan space."

He felt a twist of dread low in his gut and leaned over the desk towards Nyota, fear coloring his words.

"New Vulcan? Is something wrong? Is Spock sick? What's happened?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," She shook her head, reassuring him. "It's just…" She colored slightly, "Well, the Commander and I have decided that we want to be bonded. We need a Vulcan healer for the ceremony, and there's a fair amount of tradition attached to the whole thing."

"Bonded?" This was something unexpected. "You mean, like, married?"

The effect was instantaneous, if puzzling; Uhura blushed deeply and looked away in embarrassment. He wondered what he'd said.

"Not married, exactly. Vulcans have a very different…ah, definition, of marriage. Marriage typically comes several years after forming a mental bond," She slid her eyes back up, but kept them askance, "But, I suppose, by the human definition…yes, we'd like to get married." Nyota raised her head fully, and her Captain and friend could see that she was attempting to suppress a grin. She lost the battle, and a broad smile broke out across her face. He grinned back, ecstatic, and then laughed heartily when she buried her face in her hands.

"Oh God!" She cried, half laughing, "I'm getting married!"

"Yeah you are!" He beamed, "I'll make sure to reserve you two plenty of shore leave. Heck, I'm arranging shore leave for the whole crew! We can't miss this."

"Oh," Suddenly she became somber again, "Well, it's not really customary for Vulcans to have the bride's family present…and the ceremony does last a few days, but, I suppose…there's so much formality associated with the whole thing it would be nice to have some people that I can relax around. Just, no bachelor party, okay?" Nyota winced.

"Can't you just imagine his face? 'The presence of naked women is illogical in consideration of the fact that I am here to dedicate myself to my beloved.'" He tilted his head to one side and raised a brow in an eerily accurate imitation of Spock.

His stalwart, capable officer covered her mouth with her hands and giggled uncontrollably.

"Could we even get Vulcan strippers? I"ll have to check that out…" he drifted off.

"Ew! Jim, don't be gross. I'm leaving now." She stood and pushed the chair in, still laughing.

"Seriously, could you ask about that? I need all the dirty details!" Kirk shouted at her retreating back. The only response was an incredulous laugh and the wave of her dark ponytail as she shook her head.

The door closed with a soft _zzwoop_. Jim leaned back.

"A wedding. Well, heck." He smiled, and returned to his work.

A/N Just warning you guys, I know next to nothing about what canon has to say on the subject of Vulcan bonding ceremonies, and I am not going to research it to find out. This is partly because I am lazy, and partly because I have my own very strong visuals of the formality and ritualism of the ceremony which I want to integrate. If this will bother you, then this is probably not going to be your favorite fic.


	2. Chapter 2

She pressed her back against the door with a loud bang, the most beautiful grin on her face.

"It would be logical to infer that the Captain has approved our request." Her fiancé- fiancé! was on their couch examining her coolly, but she could tell that he was a little nervous.

"It would be logical for me to tell you that he has!"

Spock tilted his head, "It would only be logical to express such a statement if it were correct. Is this so?"

That earned him an eye-roll, "Yes, it's so!" She strides over to him and sits down in his lap, uninvited and wraps her arms around him, "We're getting married."

He jerked back. Nyota knew without looking that his ears had just flushed a violent green. "K'diwa!" He almost sounds scandalized.

"Oh, stop. You know I'm not referring to…your _time_. You're going to have to get used to hearing that word you know. The rest of the crew doesn't know the kind of connotations it has for you, and your turning bright green every time somebody says it is not going to help."

She was right. The next day, Kirk greeted them by walking onto the bridge, giving Spcok a hearty slap on the back, and declaring loudly, "Hey-yy Spock, my man! Congratulations on making an honest woman out of her!"

Uhura groaned and rested her face in her hands.

With lightening precision, the young Russian ensign's head whipped around.

"Mawwaige? Starshaya sestra and Meester Spock are getting…married?"

Uhura peeked through her fingers at the boy, with whom she was quite close. Pavel frequently missed home, and he had taken to coming to her to speak his native tongue whenever troubled. She appreciated getting some practice in Russian, and he liked having a "big sister" onboard. She nodded at him.

The young man let out a piercing shriek that could shatter glass and flung himself out of his seat at the helm. He was kneeling by Uhura's side at the communications console within seconds, chattering away in rapid, excited Russian. The woman laughed and responded to him in the same, letting him take her hands. Sulu called out from where he was, "Hey, good job guys! Congrats!" He gave a friendly smile and a wink at the Captain, "Hey, wiz kid, get back here! This ship isn't going to fly herself."

"Sowwy, sowwy. I just _love_ weddings." He sighed dreamily.

"We all do, kid," Jim took his seat, "And, the good news is, we've got clearance from the Admiralty to head right on over to New Vulcan. We'll be there soon enough, and then we'll all get to see what a Vulcan bonding is like."

Spock rose uneasily, "Ah, Captain-"

"Don't worry about it Spock. We already know that 'Vulcan bonding ceremonies are very formal and not at all like a Human wedding.' We'll deal. New cultures, new civilizations, right?"

Spock sunk back down, "I suppose, sir."

"Yeah you do. Now, lay in the course Sulu! Let's get these lovebirds to the church on time, yeah?"

As the crew turned to their work, Nyota caught Spock's eye. He looked not a little panicked, but she smiled at him and held up two fingers reassuringly.

"Soon," She mouthed, and he nodded, a furrow almost present in his brow.

They laid in the course.

A/N The name that Pavel uses to refer to Uhura means "big sister".


	3. Chapter 3

Spock felt- yes, he did feel, there was no point in denying it- uneasy. He was unfamiliar with Human ritual surrounding weddings, and the Captain's proclamation this morning has made him realize that perhaps Nyota was expecting something other than what he, bound by tradition, could give her. And he did want to give her everything.

Jim frequently proclaimed that he was Spock's "best friend". And this was certainly true, Spock enjoyed Jim's company and found him amusing. But in another sense of the word, his best friend was Nyota.

Physical contact had always been unappealing to him. As a touch telepath, it was often uncomfortable, and his cultural background told him that touching other people was both rude and aggressive. Still, he learned to tolerate the friendly touches of his non-Vulcan coworkers, and even the occasional gesture of a student. On the Enterprise, his crewmates would slap him on the back, or be incautious when handing things to him, or would run into him in the close quarters. Still, he never initiated these brief moments.

Nyota made contact with another being seem pleasant. He loved to stroke her long hair, so different from the bound-up styles of Vulcan women. The fizzles of her conscience that were broadcasted to him when he caressed her skin late at night were almost ticklish. And, they had discovered, he was a cuddler. She loved to tease him, when they were alone, about how late at night she'd wake up to find his body cradling hers, their long legs aligned, the little skitters of her fingers feather-light across his arms….

She understood his silences as well as his words. She demanded no illogical displays of loyalty because she never questioned his affections, nor did she require constant attention. She expressed her needs to him clearly and with pristine logic, and in turn, she took his requests calmly and rationally. When she became angry, she did not pretend as though she was not, and when she was happy, she let him know (usually quite…enthusiastically). She was independent and he admired the professionalism with which she treated both her subordinates and her superiors. She moved with a certain grace unlike any he had seen before, and her tongue could do marvelous things beyond the rigors of her profession.

He loved her like he had never loved before, and knew that she felt the same about him. He could not wait until they reached New Vulcan and she could claim him as her own, but at the same time he was not anticipating their arrival with eagerness. Spock knew that whispers would follow them. He knew that many healers would not wish to bind them, would tell him to choose from among the many Vulcan women who had lost their bondmates in The Battle. He knew that everywhere they went people would murmur behind their hands or, more likely, loudly and without shame, as their pairing was illogical.

But this could not be illogic. It would not be logical to deny oneself the company of a most engaging and complementary partner, nor to wish anything but to see her in ceremonial robes marked with his name, her hair laid long and loose about her shoulders.

No, he decided firmly, his actions were sound.

The days passed easily. Uhura floated serenely though them, knowing that no preparations could be made until they reached the planet; the rest of the crew buzzed around her, news having spread quickly. Everyone wanted to know what her dress would look like, and would there be a reception, and was she writing her vows? Time and time again she explained that she would be married in Spock's clan's robes (replicas of the originals, of course) as a sign of her acceptance by the family. She constantly reminded, "No, Jim, there will not be a reception, and if there were you would not enjoy it." And she lost track of the number of times that she said, "Vulcan vows are ceremonial, and therefore prewritten." After saying so once again to a disappointed Chekov, who could not believe that he would not be "the wittle groomsman for Lieutenant Uhura," she caught Spock giving her the side-eye.

"What?"

"What?"

"Don't play that game with me. You were looking at me weird just now. What are you thinking?"

He sighed, "You are not upset that you will not have all the trappings of a Terran wedding?"

"What, no! Spock, we're going to be _bonded_. Your traditions are important to me, and it's going to be such a fascinating cross-cultural experience! How many linguists can say that they've been the bride in a Vulcan wedding to the man of their dreams? How could I be worried about the fact that I won't have to wear a stupid cake of a dress, or think about pissing off my bridal party?"

He was still making scrunchy eyes- her nickname for when just the edges of his eyes curled up in approximation of a suspicious squint.

It was her turn to sigh, "Seriously, Spock. Are _you_ sad that we aren't having a Terran wedding?"

He considered the question carefully. His mother had told him once, with jealous tones coloring her words, about the "fairytale" wedding of her older sister. He wasn't one hundred percent certain why one was supposed to want a union that fit this description, as most Terran fairytales featured couples that barely knew each other, but just as his traditions were important to Nyota, so hers were to him.

"It would be, as you say, and interesting cultural experience."

"I have an idea. We have our Vulcan bonding, and then we have the Captain marry us again here on the Enterprise."

He thought about it, "That would be agreeable."

It was decided.

The day finally arrived. They docked at the newly constructed spacedock above New Vulcan, and then took shuttles down in batches. True to his word, Kirk had done his best to leave a skeleton crew in charge so that their closest friends could come. Bones, an over-excited Chekov, the Captain himself, and a few friends of Nyota's from the communications department were all in attendance. The whole crew had been invited to the Terran ceremony in three days time.

Sarek was waiting for them at the dock.

"Spock. Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy. Ensign. Lieutenant," He nodded respectfully in her direction, "I have procured the necessary attendants."

The strangest part of the ceremony, to Nyota, was not that she would soon be inside another person's mind, but that for the next three days, she would be accompanied everywhere by a small retinue. She supposed that it wasn't so different from having bridesmaids, but it still felt odd to know that there were several women whose sole task would be to prepare her for each third of the ceremony.

Sarek broke into her thoughts, "The shuttle was late by seven point two minutes, so it would be most efficient for you to go directly to your lodgings in the home and begin to prepare for tonight's ritual. You shall take a faster hovercar, while the other guests shall return on foot with me. Is this agreeable?"

"Ah, yes, I believe so." This was really happening! "I'll see you later then, guys."

She arrived at Sarek's home a short while later. Sure enough, there were three tall, pale Vulcan women, all wearing billowy robes and cloths tied around their hair, waiting to greet her.

"Nyota Uhura," One of them said in her level voice, "Come with us." They whisked her away to a big open room, with only a bed and a vanity in one corner. There was a set of what looked like drapes laid out on the bed.

"You will change," the first one said, and then they moved like a school of fish into the connecting bathroom.

Nyota picked up the drapes and examined them. Upon closer inspection it was revealed that there was a pair of black pants, a black tank-top like shirt, then a cardigan in white, and finally an over coat in gray. They were all made out of the same tight but breathable material, except the over coat, which was much looser and seemed to be derived from angora wool. She changed into them, and discovered that the coat had a long line of brass buttons down the front, so that only the very top of her shirt and her legs from mid-thigh down could actually be seen. The sleeves of the cardigan were longer than those of the coat by about two inches, so that the white tips peeked out from the tapered sleeves. She examined herself in the mirror.

"Hm. Not bad."

"Beauty is subjective," The trio had reappeared. "We will braid your hair now."

And braid they did. They sat her down at the vanity table and set to work, pulling and combing and stretching her hair. At one point, a large quantity of scented oil was poured into it and then vigorously toweled out. Uhura's neck was positively _aching_ by the time the decided that they were finished, and was thankful that they were done. She turned to the mirror, and held another small hand mirror up behind her.

She caught her breath.

They had coiled her hair up into a thick, elaborate bun on the back of her head. All of it had been pulled away from her face, a style which she usually felt made her features too severe, but they had somehow managed to make it look thick and glossy in a way that softened the harder edges. The bun itself was a series of tiny braids all wrapped around each other, over and over in a spiral that led to the center. She knew from her research that this was actually a symbol that harkened from pre-Surak times - the braids represented clan ties, and the circle showed that they were forever entwining to forge stronger links. It was the hairstyle with which she would be presented to her future father-in-law in the Gifting Ceremony, the first of the three day's events.

"It's perfect." She breathed.

"Yes," The tall woman replied. "You will go now. We will help you to dress for bed when you return."

She stood, "Thank you."

They bowed slightly, and held up their hands, last two fingers separated from the first, thumb pulled out and then bent at an angle. Nyota made the same gesture, and then left the room. As she descended the stairs into Sarek's spacious front hall, she wondered vaguely where he had hidden the rest of the Enterprise party. Certainly his home was big enough to put them all up in separate rooms, and she hadn't heard them come int. She mused on how difficult it would be to find and sneak into Spock's chambers once everyone had gone to bed. A low whistle broke into her train of thought.

"Well I'll be damned and cooked up with a rooster. They've turned you into a right Vulcan lady, Uhura."

"Oh, hey guys," She brightened, "Thank you Doctor, they did a good job." The Doctor and the Captain reclined in a living room tucked off to the side of the stairs. Somehow Bones had already managed to rustle up some alcohol. Nyota twirled in a slow circle so that they could admire her robes, which they did with gratifying aplomb.

"Spock told us to wait for you here," Jim explained, "I guess this Gift thing is starting soon?"

"That sounds about right."

"What's it for anyway?" asked Leonard.

"Well, this is the first part of the traditional bonding ceremony, when the house of one clan presents the bride to the house of the clan with which they want to join. The patriarch decides if she's a worthy gift, and if she meets his approval then the ceremony continues."

Len looked revolted, "That's awfully old fashioned, don't ya think? They should have figured out that women aren't property by now."

She laughed, "Oh, Doctor, of course they have. They figured it out years before we did, comparatively. This is largely ceremonial, and anyway, later on Spock will be gifted to me! It goes both ways you see; these robes may have no clan markings now, but later I will wear ones with his name embroidered on them, and he will wear ones with mine. It's all very civilized."

"My beloved is correct," Spock appeared from a hidden side door. He too was wearing the black, white, and gray robes, and Nyota took a moment to appreciate the fit of the pants, "Everything is, of course, logical," he turned to Nyota, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, if you are."

"What's going on?" asked Jim.

"The show, as I believe you would say Jim, is about to start."


End file.
